Home, alone and stoned

My nephew takes a one arm markthey can see it from melbourne's tallest buildingmy grandpa takes a fall and breaks his teeth and glassesmy father walks down highways lostmy sister buys little bottles of duty free perfumemy mother always worrys and it makes me sorrymy brother fights firesmy aunties are handmade teddybearsif my family ring now it will go to message bank

Saturday night lights

of thunder and lightningThe rain like a baby's first stepsI'm home, alone and stoned,while the lovers are mending their bonesWho wants to be on the rubber band rebound relationshipWho wants a ride on the mothership?You are worth recovery, she saidYou're a rose tree that needs pruningYou're everything you learnt that needs learningIn the rain my heart wears gumboots.In the pain I pull the doona over my head and forget what I look like.Love like it's window shopping never interested me.

I've run out of dope.This is my last ever toke of synthetic pot I hopeThere's synthetic people,but my heart drops like a coin into a homeless man's hat.The eternal night isn't very maternal.Of all those people sleeping on a concrete mattress under a black sky doona.I wish Jesus would come sooner rather than later,as the trams go past like green alligators.

I catch a peak hour tram.People are ripe like juicy apples in the morning light.Business men make their bread and butter,the drugs turn good men into nutters,it's a beautiful day to suffer.The homeless have faces like empty spaces.No solution to their heads in the pollution,and their feet in the gutter.The poor gather on the banks of the flowing street.

The rain hits the roof in pain,I didn't ask to be gay.The lion eats the antelope,but there's still hope.

The 690 bus

no-one without any money on the bus.People with dreams like me,staring out the window,licking lollipop ladiesbuses are rough, but trains dance with usAt Blackburn station,women in black get on.At Box Hill ticket inspectors see if we're paying our taxes,wait to catch us.On a tram I'm sitting backwards.

I'm heading to an AA meetingwith the lined faces of the old timers like lost treasure maps to help find us.Today I've got clean, pink eyes like when I get shampoo in them,and it makes me cry.Hello is the colour of a yellow sun.I'm not normal though I was born from a mother who was hormonal.A gram is the size of a postage stamp.Addiction gets under my skin, like the mark where a bandaid's been,or a childhood scar from falling off a bike or out of a tree.Addiction never made rich men.When I thought my addiction was zen buddhism,I soon found out it was ten out of ten bullshit.That my peace was in pieces, and God was not pleased.I always pigged out on the sweet things.

Time

time is slow.Time is growth.Time is a tin toy on tracks.Time is digital.Time is exploding.Who knows when your time is up.Time is God's gold wristwatch.Time is travelling.Time is unravelling.Time is shining.The timing is everything.Time is a tossed coin.Time is a lost loved one.Time is rich and poor.Time leaves by the back door.Time can be uncomfortable.Time is a pair of tight blue jeans.Time is a moonlight walk.Time is a teenager.Time is watched.Time is the truth.Time hurts like a loose tooth.Time is a woman getting ready.Time is in the art gallery.Time is tasteless like celery.

Annie's show

where they throw money to be up close.A dose of honey,but all I've got is the sweetness of the lonely.Annie turns away,and I see the side of her face.An avalanche sliding down her cheekbones,eyes of ice I fall through.

Peta Edmonds is studying a diploma in professional writing and editing. She came first in her novel writing class with a novel she is working on called Tramspotting.

Recent articles by Peta Edmonds.

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Existing comments

Glorious. Best poetry I've read by a young person in yonks. Keep writing, you are needed.Peter Goers | 08 March 2016

I love ordinary things and places and activities made extraordinary by beautifully constructed words and phrases. You can do that PETA. I'll have to watch my behavior on the 109 tram. You may be Tramspotting. Good luck and keep writing.Celia | 08 March 2016

Beautiful heart felt words that dance off the page. well done.luke | 08 March 2016

Today my "heart dropped like a coin into a homeless mans hat"
I'm glad I had your prose to steady me thru the mire !PHIL Thomas | 08 March 2016

Great stuff, Peta. Stay with it.Ian Fraser | 09 March 2016

Excellent. Your words threw me back into Melbourne, after so many years away. Thank you.Deena Bennett | 09 March 2016